They Don't Play Stickball in Milwaukee

Cover They Don't Play Stickball in Milwaukee
They Don't Play Stickball in Milwaukee
Coleman, Reed Farrel
He reminded me that the inn was going to throw its weekly fish fry tonight. I thanked him, but told him I’d have to take a pass on the fried fish. Before parting company, I asked him to deliver two cups of coffee to the campus security officers parked across the street in the blue minivan. The clerk didn’t bat an eye and wondered if I might not have a message to deliver with the coffee?
I said I did. “Tell them I know how bad surveillance duty sucks. Tell them if they should feel nature call, t
...o just piss into the empty cups.”
It was a real Hollywood gesture, but having been there recently, I figured I was excused. The clerk loved it. I didn’t imagine he got to do a whole lot of Hollywood material there in the land of fish fries. I slipped him a twenty for the coffee and future considerations. It was, after all, Jeffrey’s money.
I tossed the fax on the bed and headed straight for the shower. The jail stink came off in layers. As I washed, I went over my little conference with Dean Dallenbach.
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